


A New Start

by myrobotheart



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Lizzington - Freeform, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrobotheart/pseuds/myrobotheart
Summary: Lizzie calls Red out for trying to oversee her life; Red apologizes. Going back to seasons 1 and 2, before things went sideways for our Red and Lizzie.





	1. Apology

Reddington regarded the near empty bottle of whisky sitting beside him. _Why not?_ he thought, and filled his glass. A grey tabby cat watched him in what appeared to be silent judgement and he tried to ignore it. He was trying to ignore a lot of things, lately. He took a quick sip, tilted the glass toward the cat. _Cheers._

 

There wasn't much to be cheerful about, actually. As a matter of fact, there was scarcely anything. Just-- but he had made his mind up not to think too much about that. About _her_.

 

What was he thinking, anyway. Turning himself in to the FBI, working with them, just so that he could have some slight contact with her. And then getting all mixed up in her affairs, no one had asked him- _she_ certainly hadn't- and shouldn't he have known better by now? Hiring spies, carefully choreographing, waiting... and for what? Just to end up with her furious at him (rightfully so, he admitted, but only in his mind).

 

He only wanted the best for her. He'd always wanted that. He took another drink, and the cat looked away. God, even the cat pitied him.

 

Well, there was really nothing left to do now but leave her alone. Give her space. Hope that, in time-- but that was too much to ask.

 

_Bzzz._ His phone vibrated, but he ignored it.

_Bzzz._ It happened again.

 

_Bzzz Bzzz._ He set his drink down in annoyance. Why was anyone trying to – of all things – _text message_ him at this hour? He opened the phone: 4 unread messages. From Elizabeth Keen.

 

_-Reddington_

 

_-Are you awake?_

 

_-Can we talk?_

 

_-Call me_

 

He stared at the words, waiting for them to reveal some additional meaning, but none was forthcoming. Lizzie wanted to talk – to _him_ – _now_? He realized she was waiting for a response, and almost before he knew what he was doing, he had clicked the phone call button and was dialing her number.

 

It barely rang once. “ _Hello_?”

 

“Lizzie. Hello.”

 

“ _Reddington. You called.”_ She sounded slightly surprised.

 

“You asked me to call. Is everything okay Lizzie?” He held the phone carefully, as though it were as fragile as their relationship.

 

“ _Y-yes. Well, actually no. I couldn't sleep. Do you have a minute?”_ He could picture her running a hand through her hair nervously.

 

“Of course, Lizzie. Go ahead.”

 

There was a long pause and he thought perhaps they'd been disconnected, but then he heard her let out her breath with a sigh.

 

“ _Well, the thing is Reddington, I'm angry. Furious, actually._ ”

 

He cringed.

 

“ _You really need to understand that what you did was not okay. It is_ not okay _to mess around in someone's life like that.”_ She paused again, appearing to let this sink in before continuing. “ _You have this idea that you're some kind of hero, arranging things in secret and watching over people and interfering in their lives – in their perfectly normal and acceptable lives-- all in a misguided attempt at_ protecting _them, at protecting_ me! _And I never asked to be protected – by you or anyone! So you just need to know that.”_

 

“Lizzie-”

 

“ _Wait, I'm not done yet Reddington. You need to stop deciding that you know best for everyone. Especially me. Give me a chance to figure things out on my own, okay? There's no point in pretending we make a great team if you're the only one who gets to make decisions.”_

 

“Lizzie,” he tried again.

 

“ _Maybe we_ do _make a great team. Or maybe we_ would _if we had a chance to find out. You see what I'm saying? I want a chance, Reddington. I want a chance to decide for myself what happens in my life. Not what you think is best.”_

 

He waited a moment. “Lizzie. I'm sorry.”

 

“ _Well, good. You should be sorry. Did I mention I'm furious?”_

 

He nodded into the phone. “You did mention that.”

 

“ _Oh. You're sorry, then?”_

 

“Yes.”

 

“ _And that's all you have to say?”  
_

“Lizzie, I'd love to say more but so far you've been taking the lead.”

 

“ _Well go ahead then, I'm listening.”_

 

“I wanted to apologize fully. You were right – I did assume I knew what was best for you. It was unfair and ultimately, as you said, you should still have full authority over what decisions you make in your own life. I was – am – only trying to look out for you, Lizzie. I care about you deeply. That's no excuse but it's true.”

 

“ _It is absolutely no excuse. But thank you – for apologizing and... for what you said.”_ He heard her voice soften.

 

“You're welcome.”

 

“ _Okay. Well that's fine then. But I don't think you should come to the Post Office for a while. I need some space.”_

“I understand, Lizzie.”

 

“ _Just for a while. I'll let you know if – when – I feel we can work together again.”_

 

“Of course. I'll wait to hear from you then.”

 

“ _Good. Well, goodnight Red.”_

 

“Goodnight, Lizzie.”

 

“ _Red?”_

 

“Yes?”

 

“ _I … care about you, too. Goodnight.”_ There was a click and he realized she had hung up the phone. There wasn't much to be cheerful about, but he couldn't help a small smile. _I care about you, too._

 

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said to the cat. It regarded him unwaveringly.


	2. How have you been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie misses Red.

Lizzie sat staring at the phone. She both wanted and didn't want it to ring. If it did ring, she wouldn't answer it anyway. But if it didn't...

 

Cooper interrupted her moody stare with a purposeful throat clear. “Hrrmm-ummph.”

 

Lizzie startled. “Sorry! I... was.” She was what? Waiting? “Uh, I must have gotten lost in my thoughts. Something I can help you with?”

 

“Yes. The next Blacklister.” Cooper handed her a file folder, which she looked at in confusion.

 

“The next...?”

 

Cooper nodded.

 

“But how did- was Reddington here?” She tried not to sound too interested, but suspected she was failing badly. She hadn't met Cooper's eyes.

 

“No, he called earlier. Said he had already spoken to you, so he just gave us the name. Aram did some research and- there you go.”

 

Lizzie nodded as though everything made perfect sense. In a way, it did- she'd been the one to instruct Reddington not to come back to the Post Office until she was ready. So why did she feel so put out at the thought of him calling Cooper and not speaking to her?

 

“Right. Of course, thank you.”  


“Is everything alright Agent Keen?” Cooper looked concerned, but when she smiled and nodded, he didn't pry any further. “Good. I'll leave you to it, then.”

 

–

 

Over the next several days, Lizzie kept herself busy with the case. Reddington would check in via phone, but always with someone else on the team. She tried not to think too hard about what it meant that that made her feel jealous.

 

Then, a few days later, when the phone rang she heard Cooper say, “Reddington. How are-- Agent Keen? Yes, she's here.” She tried to listen in without seeming too interested. There was a brief pause, and then, “She's fine.” Was he asking about her?

 

Cooper glanced over at her and she pretended to be completely unaware of the phone call. Then he addressed her directly. “Agent Keen.”

 

She looked up.

 

“It's Reddington. He's asking if you have time to speak with him.”

 

She hesitated. He was giving her an out, if she still didn't want to talk to him she could say she was too busy, and – but who was she kidding. She _did_ want to talk to him.

 

“Sure!” _Nice Liz, so casual._

 

Picking up the phone, she waited for a moment before saying, “Hello?”

 

“ _Hello Lizzie.”_ His voice sounded warm, even over the phone, and she realized that despite herself she'd missed it. Damn the man. “ _How have you been?”_

 

“I've... been-” _Struggling. Having a hard time. Tired of fighting. “_ I've been fine, thank you.” She wondered if she sounded convincing.

 

She imagined him nodding once, in that peremptory way of his, before replying. “I _'m glad to hear it Lizzie. How have you been making out with the case? Any leads?_ ”

 

“Nothing's panned out yet, but we're getting somewhere. Where have you been, Red?” the question came out of her mouth before she had time to censor herself. She also noticed she'd called him Red, by accident, and wondered if he'd pick up on it. He'd probably pick up on it. She'd been purposefully calling him Reddington in an attempt to discourage familiarity, but old habits were hard to kick.

 

“ _Oh, here and there_.”

 

“The usual, then.”

 

“ _The usual. Have you been well?”_

 

Lizzie allowed herself a small smile. “Yes, I have. You already asked that, though.”

 

“ _Maybe I didn't believe you. Nevertheless, I'm glad you're well.”_ Here, there was a lengthy pause during which it seemed Red was waiting for her to say something, but she couldn't think of what to say. Finally, he finished with, _“Well, good luck with the leads, I hope Aram has some luck with that driver's license information I sent him.”_

 

“Yes, I hope so too.”

 

Another pause. “ _Take care, Lizzie.”_

 

“Thank you.”

 

She hung up then, still feeling just as confused as before the call. Reddington had that effect on her, it seemed.

 

-

 

Red hung up his end of the phone and stared at it for a long moment before putting it away.

 


	3. Bereft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red goes to Spain, and leaves Lizzie feeling confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. We all know what happened on the show last week, and all I can say is that I am grateful for the Lizzington AU in which Red and Lizzie have the opportunity to live out their lives in a way that does honour to the way the actors have portrayed them all this time. I need to keep writing lovely fluff, and I will definitely keep reading it :)

Time passed, and one case turned into the next. The Post Office remained bereft of Raymond Reddington's presence – or perhaps it was the other way around. Red certainly felt bereft. He longed to return to the days of working side by side with Lizzie, of seeing her quick mind work through cases like they were elementary math problems. Of experiencing her hard side - the side she showed suspects under interrogation - and the almost indescribable transition to her soft side, the side she had only just began to show him. He could feel an actual ache in his chest, remembering these things. And his whisky supply was running low.

 

But he wasn't about to ruin things by forcing his presence back into the task force. He made himself settle for quick phone calls (not nearly enough), and reminiscing (all too much).

 

He was familiar with waiting; it was second nature to him. If Lizzie needed time, he would honour that.

 

-

 

“Hello?” Samar picked up her phone. “Yes, the next Blacklister? Hang on, let me grab a pen.”

 

Lizzie's ears perked up at the word “Blacklister.” Was it Reddington on the phone? Calling _Samar?_ She tried to appear engrossed in her own phone, clicking at nothing in particular.

 

“Yes. Mmhmm. Yes. Okay, thank you.” a brief pause, and in her peripheral vision Lizzie saw Samar smile. “Well thank you.” Another pause. Lizzie put down her phone. “I'm flattered. You as well. Goodbye.”

 

Samar hung up, glancing over at Lizzie, still smiling. “We have our next name.”

 

“We do? Oh. Was that- I mean, did Reddington call you?” Her voice sounded accusing and she made a mental note of it. Why did it sound like that?

 

“Yes. He's in Spain.”

 

“ _Spain!”_ Lizzie cringed slightly. Was her voice always that shrill? She couldn't remember.

 

“Yes. For a few weeks I believe.” Samar was already walking over to Aram's computer with the scrap of paper. Lizzie followed her.

 

“Spain,” she repeated, somewhat less intensely. “That's- interesting.” _Did he say anything else?_

“How did- he must have sounded tired. Because of the time difference.” _Seriously? The time difference?_

 

Samar glanced at her strangely. “I didn't notice.”

 

 _What else did he say? Why were you flattered?_ Lizzie pressed her lips together. She was not going to be jealous of this. She was _not._ She had been the one to tell Red- no, to _order_ him- not to come back for a while. Why _shouldn't_ he go to Spain, and call Samar, and tell her – tell her what? And what's more, why should she care?

 

It was more than she felt like considering just now. The case. She should concentrate on the case. That was what she wanted. Wasn't it?

 

-

 

Red had briefly considered telling Lizzie that he was going to Spain for a few weeks. He imagined the conversation going something like this:

 

“Lizzie. I'm heading to Spain for the next few weeks. I just wanted to let you know.”

 

“ _You don't have to let me know, you're welcome to go wherever you want.”_

 

“I'll miss you, Lizzie.”

 

“ _I'd prefer if you stopped calling me.”_

 

He sighed. Not telling her had probably been for the best. He did wonder briefly what it would be like if he could have invited her with him. A very different world, he supposed. Best not to dwell too much on that.

 

He sipped a coffee and regarded the cafe where he was sitting with disinterest. A _very_ different world.

 

-

 

A few nights later when Lizzie returned home, she got out of the shower and noticed a voicemail on her phone. _Strange_ , she thought. _No one ever leaves me voicemails. Except-_

 

The number showed as Unknown Caller. _It couldn't be._ It was.

 

“ _Lizzie. I hope you're well. I've been in Spain for a few weeks; I'm not sure if Samar told you. Regardless, that's where I've been. In Madrid, to be precise. And Barcelona. But mostly Madrid. The weather is-- well. You can't quite compare it to anything in America. The clouds... even the clouds are different. Heavier, perhaps. Or more sombre. It's as though they have stories to tell, but not ones with happy endings. I've discovered some delightful pastries, quite the unique flavour profile, really incredible. A small Spanish woman with big hair sold them to me at a cafe my first morning here, and I haven't been able to stay away since. I've been considering trying to bring some back with me, but I don't think they'd last the plane ride here. I fly back tomorrow, Lizzie. I just wanted – well. That's all. I hope you've been sleeping well; I remember you saying that thunderstorms kept you awake and I know there's been some stormy weather at home. And I hope- well that's all really. I'm sorry to have called you, I know I'd said I'd leave you alone for a while. You don't have to listen to this whole message Lizzie, in fact I hope you deleted it right away. But- if you did listen. I'm-- wishing you well. Goodbye Lizzie.”_

 

She had listened to the whole message. And after listening to it once, she played it back again. _I just wanted-- what? What had he wanted? For that matter, what did_ she _want_? She held her finger over the “delete messages” button, hesitating. She turned her phone off, leaving the message saved.  _What did she want, indeed._

 


	4. What she wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie gets clearer on what she wants when Red is injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been reading; who's let me know they're enjoying; and who is also writing wonderful AU fluff to keep us going. Truly a lovely community here xo

Red had returned home. He wondered if Lizzie had listened to his entire voicemail. Perhaps she'd just deleted it, unheard. He wasn't sure if he'd have preferred that. Nevertheless, she hadn't responded (yet). He shook his head. Why did he do that to himself? _Yet._ Implying that there was a chance she'd still call him back. The cat rubbed against his leg, welcoming him back, and he pet it halfheartedly, mind elsewhere.

 

He hoped he hadn't ruined things by leaving that voicemail. He knew he should have waited for her to call, but it had happened before he really knew what he was doing, and he hadn't yet discovered a way to un-send a voicemail. So it had gone, across the ocean in some mysterious electronic signal way, to sit (unheard?) in Lizzie's inbox. He wished he hadn't sent it. _Had_ she listened to it?

 

-

 

Lizzie knew Red was back. She hadn't been able to delete that voicemail, and so it remained on her phone, reminding her that she still didn't know what she wanted, what she felt. In the past, it would have been easy for her to just call him back, but now--

 

She frowned, regarding the phone accusingly. She almost expected it to ring right then, but it didn't. And when it didn't, she decided she had to do something. She couldn't remain both angry at the fact that he'd called, _and_ angry at the fact that he hadn't called back. It was her turn to make a move. _Decide, Lizzie. What_ do _you want._

 

She opened a new text message.

 

_-I got your voicemail. Haven't been sleeping very well at all. Prob too much coffee._

 

She clicked 'send' before she could talk herself out of it. This was fine. A text message was fine. Her phone lit up.

 

_-There's no such thing, Lizzie._

Then _-Good to hear from you._

 

She grinned in spite of herself.

 

_-There is so. When your eyelids won't even close, it's too much._

 

_-I've never experienced that._

 

_-You're lucky. Might switch to decaf._

 

_-Blasphemy!_

 

_-Maybe. Goodnight, Red._

 

_-Goodnight Lizzie._

 

She shut off her phone. Somehow, she felt closer to understanding what she wanted.

 

–

 

A few days later, she called him.

 

“ _Hello?”_

 

“Hi Red.”

 

“ _Lizzie. Is everything alright?”_

 

“Yes.”

 

“ _Oh, good.”_

 

“I switched to decaf. It was terrible and I switched back.”

 

She thought she could sense a smile when he replied, “ _Smart girl. Have you been sleeping?”_

 

“Somewhat. I bought a white noise machine.”

 

“ _A what?”_

 

“A white noise machine. It plays a sort of soft whooshing sound, like the wind. It's supposed to help you sleep.”

 

“ _Does it?”_

 

“Not really. I might return it.”

 

“ _Hmm.”_

 

She hesitated. “How was the coffee in Madrid?”

 

“ _You don't want me to tell you that, Lizzie, it will only make you jealous.”_

 

“Ha. I bet I could find some here that would rival it.”

 

“ _I bet you could.”_ His tone had grown softer.

 

“Well. I don't want to keep you. I'll talk to you later, Red.”

 

“ _Absolutely.”_

 

“Bye.”

 

When Reddington hung up, he felt a very small inkling of hope.

 

-

 

Another week passed. Lizzie was getting ready to head home for the day when Aram hurried over. “Did you hear? Mr. Reddington's been hurt!”

“Hurt? Is he alright?” She spoke from reflex, a worry switch toggling immediately in her brain. _Hurt?_

 

“I don't know! I think so. Dembe was with him. He was shot in the leg – but they took him home. The bullet just grazed his leg I think. Dembe said he wouldn't go to the hospital.” Aram looked stunned, as if considering how he himself would have reacted to such events.

 

“ _Shot_ in the _leg?!”_ Lizzie repeated, aware she was simply echoing what Aram had said.

 

“Yes- they were at the Blacklister's house, and I guess he came home unexpectedly.”

 

“But he's alright? Dembe said he was alright?” She was grabbing her jacket, putting it on, and starting to walk away.

 

Aram nodded. “I hope so. Are you going to go see him?”

 

Lizzie looked over her shoulder, already at the elevator door. “Yes.”

 

“Tell Mr. Reddington we hope he's okay!” she heard Amar call out as the door closed.

 

-

 

Lizzie arrived at Reddington's door, slightly out of breath from taking the stairs quicker than she was used to. She knocked urgently a few times, and her fist was raised to knock again when she heard the deadbolt slide open.

 

Dembe regarded her with his familiar staid expression, but she almost thought she saw a hint of relief on his face. “Elizabeth. You heard?”

 

“Yes, Aram told me! What happened- is he okay?”

 

Dembe gestured for her to come in. “He is okay. The bullet did not enter his leg. But he did not let me take him to the hospital, or call a doctor to come here. He says it is nothing, but-- it was a close call.”

 

Lizzie frowned. “What were you doing at the house anyway? Cooper was sending the task force out tomorrow!”

 

“Mr. Reddington insisted. There was an item there of great importance to him. It has been retrieved.” Dembe led her into the sitting room, and paused at the door. “I have to pick up some medical supplies. I will leave you. Please call me if anything happens.”

 

Before Lizzie could nod her assent, he was walking away. She hesitated at the door, then walked in. Red was sitting in the large leather armchair, and he made a small surprised sound when she entered.

 

“Reddington, what happened? You were shot? Why would you go to that house with Dembe- you _knew_ Cooper was sending Ressler and Samar tomorrow! You could have been seriously injured! Or-- or worse!” She knew she was rambling, and she could feel her cheeks heating up. “Dembe said you wouldn't go to the hospital!”

 

Red regarded her with an expression of mixed surprise and amusement. Standing there with her hands on her hips, she appeared even more endearing than he recalled.

 

“Are you done Lizzie? I'd love to answer all of your questions in turn, but I haven't been able to get a word in, yet.”

 

She huffed. “I'm done.”

 

“Well. Thank you for your mixture of concern and admonishment; I suppose it's better than I deserve, really. I _was_ indeed shot, by our Blacklister no less, and luckily he's as bad a shot as I could have hoped. If he was aiming for my chest, he was miles away. I credit my boxing training for my quick reflexes. Dembe and I went to the house to get something – something of extreme and crucial importance, Lizzie. It couldn't wait for Donald and Samar, nor would I have entrusted them to obtain it without question. We were well aware of the risks, Lizzie. And luckily, we appear to have succeeded.”

 

Lizzie's face was still stern. “And the hospital? Why no doctors, Red?”

 

“Dembe managed to do a first-rate job bandaging my leg, Lizzie. It's just a flesh wound. I can show you if you'd like to see it, but I don't recommend it on a full stomach. When did you last eat?”

 

“Don't joke with me, Red. You should have seen a doctor. What if it gets infected?”

 

“I shall cross that bridge if it happens.”

 

“You're ridiculous, you know that.” But her voice had softened a bit, and Red became very aware of the fact that she had shown up at his apartment. She had heard he'd been injured, and she'd come over right away. This felt significant.

 

Lizzie also seemed to realize how out of character her behaviour had been. She hadn't even seen Reddington for over a month now, hadn't talked to him other than a few phone calls and texts, and suddenly here she was standing in his apartment. Like old times. She took a seat on the couch across from him, unsure of herself.

 

Then- “Thank you for coming, Lizzie. It's good to see you.” And she relaxed a bit.

 

“You, too. I'm- sorry for avoiding you for so long.”

 

“No need to apologize; you had your reasons.”

 

“I did.” She concentrated on the pattern on the carpet at her feet. “I'm glad you're okay.”

 

His chest had previously felt very tight, but now he felt something expand at her words. He didn't say anything, just tilted his head in acknowledgement. He hoped one day he could convey just how much those words meant to him. For now, it was enough that she had come. It was enough.

 


	5. I could use some company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie worries about Red.

There are a thousand different ways to show someone you care about them _._ A hug. Flowers. Letting the other person eat the last bite of cheesecake. Giving in. Refusing to give in. Bringing soup when someone is sick. _Take care of yourself. Be careful. I'm glad you're okay._ A thousand different things to say or do.

 

Reddington picked up his phone late at night, tapping the button quickly when he saw who was calling.

 

“Lizzie, it's late. Are you alright?”

 

“ _Yes, I'm fine Red.”_ It sounded like she was smiling. “ _I was calling to check on_ you.”

 

He held the phone away from his ear, looking at it with some uncertainty. In a moment he heard, “ _Red? Are you there?”_ and he placed the phone back to his ear.

 

“I'm here, Lizzie.”

 

“ _I said I was calling to see how you're doing.”_

 

He could hear the concern in her voice, and he smiled too. “I'm well. Dembe gave me his seal of approval and let me out for a walk this afternoon.”

 

“ _That's encouraging!”_

 

“I felt like a prisoner on probation. It was exhilarating.”

 

Lizzie chuckled. _“Everyone's been asking about you at the Post Office. Aram especially. He was convinced I was exaggerating about how well you were recovering. He made me write down the number of a physiotherapist he recommended.”_

 

“Tell Aram I'm grateful for the recommendation, Lizzie.”  
  
“ _I will. And Cooper sends his best wishes.”_

 

“Thank you to Cooper.”

 

“ _... And you really are feeling better? You're not just trying to keep me from worrying?”_

 

“Are you worried, Lizzie?” his heart suddenly felt larger than it had a moment before, and he was starting to become very aware of his own pulse. It was located in his throat just now.

 

“ _I am- I mean, I_ was. _”_ Lizzie paused to gather her thoughts. “ _I just don't want anything to happen to you, Red. Not now that-”_ there was another pause, longer this time. But she wasn't able to finish her sentence.

 

“Is that why you called me in the middle of the night?” She didn't immediately respond, and he wondered if he was pushing too far.

 

“ _It's not the middle of the night, it's barely ten p.m.”_ she chided.

 

“It's eleven-forty.”

 

Lizzie glanced at her phone in surprise. So it was. “ _Okay, eleven-forty. Were you asleep?”_

 

“You haven't answered my question, Lizzie.”

 

“ _You haven't answered mine.”_

 

“I wasn't asleep. I haven't been sleeping very well lately.”

 

“ _I haven't been sleeping well either. That's why I called.”_

 

Reddington held the phone tightly, not saying anything.

 

“ _I was hoping maybe you could use some company. But if you've got a crossword puzzle to do or something-”_

 

“I could use some company, Lizzie.” He spoke with care. It was vital he didn't mess this up.

 

“ _Okay. Good. Well, I could come over in a few? Bring some old movies – I usually watch old movies when I can't sleep. Do you have popcorn? - Nevermind. I'll bring that, too.”_

 

“You don't have to--”

 

“ _I'll see you soon, Red.”_ She cut him off before he could say any more.

 

He hung up the phone carefully. She'd see him soon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a bit since my last update. This is just a super quick scene and then I'm excited about what's in store next :)


	6. It happened one night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red and Lizzie watch a movie together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It Happened One Night is one of my favourite classic movies. If you haven't seen it, watch it asap. I'm a huge fan of the slow burn (obviously) and also love a good mismatched couple who start off at odds with each other and end up in love. I thought Lizzie and Red might enjoy the parallels ;)

Lizzie arrived in a state of semi-anxiety. What was she doing, showing up with a DVD of _It Happened One Night_ and two bags of popcorn (cheddar and salted)? She hadn't even waited for Red's response, just affirmed _I'll see you soon,_ and that was that. He _had_ said he could use some company, but -

 

Before she could talk herself out of everything, Reddington opened the door. He regarded her silently, standing there with arms full of movies and bagged snacks. She saw the corner of his mouth twitch – was he _laughing?_

 

“Come in, Lizzie! No need to stand around outside. Is that popcorn?”

 

She grinned, relief flooding her chest. “Yes of course. I said I'd bring some! And Clark Gable, Bogey, _both_ Hepburns... I brought my finest selection.”

 

He gestured for her to come inside, and she followed him into the living room. “I think you'll find I'm quite an asset for sleepless nights.” _God, Lizzie!_ She chided herself, _what are you saying? Sleepless nights?!_ “I meant, because I watch a lot of movies...”

 

Red turned back to look at her with a slight smile. “I believe you, Lizzie.”

  
She felt her cheeks flush, and attempted to change the subject. “How do you feel about Clark Gable? _It Happened One Night?_ A 1934 classic? You probably saw it in theatres when it came out. Haha. I'm only teasing, Red!” she said before he could protest. “I know you're not eighty.”

 

He pretended to look hurt, and she smiled again. “You're just – what, sixty? Sixty-five? Gah!” this as one of the pillows from the couch hit her in the chest.

 

She looked over and he was sitting on the couch quite innocently. “I do happen to like that film.”

 

“Perfect.” She was actually surprised that he had a TV at home, let alone a DVD player. There was clearly more to learn about him.

 

“Cheddar, or salted?” she held out the two bags. Reddington chose the salted, and she grinned because cheddar was her favourite.

 

“Shall I get us some bowls?” he asked, and she laughed.

“Most definitely not. Late-night-can't-sleep movie watching is best when you eat straight from the bag. The crinkling sound makes it better.” She ripped her bag open and he did the same.

 

He found it difficult to focus on the movie at first, being preoccupied with the fact that Lizzie was sitting quite close to him on the couch. When she pulled her legs up to get more comfortable, handing him her popcorn momentarily while she adjusted her limbs, he noticed he was holding his breath and had to mentally instruct himself to exhale. She took the popcorn back with a smile.

 

“Something amusing?” he asked.

 

She shook her head. “Do you always wear a dress shirt and trousers when you're relaxing at home at night, Red?”

 

He looked down at his outfit as if surprised. “It didn't occur to me that there was a dress code, Lizzie.”

 

She laughed. “No hat, though. That's something.”

 

“Would you like me to get changed?”

 

“No, no! Haha as long as you're comfortable.” she gestured to her own leggings and loose top with a shrug. “First thing I do when I get home is ditch the dress clothes. Plus, now if I spill popcorn on myself it's not a big deal. The cheddar kind of just rubs right off.”

 

He laughed then, too, which pleased her. “You're missing the movie, Lizzie.”

 

“It's okay. I've seen it about ten times. She's going to fall asleep on his arm, you see? It's sweet. He tried to pretend he disliked her, but he can't resist.”

 

Red loosened his grip on the popcorn, which he hadn't noticed he was holding so tightly. “So it seems.”

 

Lizzie scooted the tiniest bit closer to him. “They're adorable,” she said softly, crunching a mouthful of popcorn.

 

“I didn't know you were such a hopeless romantic, Lizzie.”

 

“Well now you know. I'm not ashamed of it. I might cry a bit at the end, too, if I'm still awake.”

 

Red laughed again, gently. He wasn't quite sure what incredible series of events had led to this precise moment: sitting next to Lizzie on the couch watching old movies and laughing, but he hoped with everything he had that he wouldn't mess it up. Just a few days ago he'd have sworn Lizzie would have rather seen anyone but him, and now – well, now _this_.

 

“Thank you for coming,” he said, still looking at the TV.

 

“Thank you for letting me in,” she returned, also watching the screen.

 

They sat for a while, enjoying the movie and each other's company. The popcorn got finished much earlier than the movie, and every so often the cat walked by and brushed up against one or both of them. It would be so easy to get used to this, Red thought. So easy to get lost in the routine of _you're sitting on my side of the couch_ and _who gets to pick the movie_ and _did we forget to buy cat food again?_ And sitting there like this was at once enjoyable and painful, because he was acutely aware that this was not his normal routine. He had been lucky enough – incredibly so- to be present for this delightful occasion, but how could he possibly be lucky enough for more?

 

Lizzie glanced over at him, taking in his serious expression and wondering what he was thinking. He'd surprised her by being the perfect movie-watching companion – he didn't mind when she told him what was about to happen, and he humoured her when she exclaimed to the characters on screen as if they could hear her. He also chuckled at the best parts, which made her happy. There was nothing worse when watching a movie with someone than if they didn't laugh at the funny parts.

 

At the end when she started to feel teary-eyed, Reddington passed her a handkerchief he'd pulled seemingly out of thin air without saying anything, and she took it gratefully.

 

“Thank you. I just love that movie.” She yawned. “Sorry. I'm tired but I can't sleep. You know?”

 

He nodded. “I do. You're welcome to stay here as long as you like, Lizzie. Or head home if you'd rather. I'll probably not get much sleep,” he gestured to his leg.

 

Lizzie looked at his leg, then met his gaze. “I'm up for another movie if you are.”

 

“I'd like that.”

 


	7. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie falls asleep during the movie, and wakes up panicked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I just love these two so much.

It was near the end of the second movie ( _The Philadelphia Story_ ) when Reddington looked over at Lizzie and noticed she had in fact fallen asleep. She was half-sitting, half-lying down, leaning up against a stack of pillows. Quietly, he shut off the TV and placed a blanket over her. She didn't budge, and he felt pleased that she'd managed to fall asleep while there.

 

After covering her up, he shut off the remaining lamp and settled himself into a wingback chair. Sleep may not come as easily to him, but he would be there for her, and it would be enough. (But it was never _quite_ enough).

 

Some time later, Lizzie woke up with a tight feeling in her chest and sweat on her forehead. At first, she was disconcerted waking up on a couch. _Whose blanket was this? Was that a cat on the floor nearby?_ After a moment she realised she must have fallen asleep during the movie, and Red had kindly let her get some well-won rest. But the panicked feeling didn't leave her, and she knew she was having an anxiety attack. This was what had been keeping her from getting a full night's rest when she did eventually fall asleep. The conviction that she would not be able to calm down, not be able to take a full and deep breath overtook her until it was all she could think about.

 

 _If I stop breathing, what will happen? No, that can't happen. I'll be fine. My chest-- my chest just feels a bit tight. Painful actually. What if I'm-- oh god, what if something's wrong?_ The pressure on her chest increased, and she felt like she had to gasp for air.

 

“Lizzie?” Red was awake.

 

She breathed out slowly through her mouth. “I'll be okay, I'm just--” another breath out, “--Just having a bit of an anxiety attack right now. I'll be okay.”

 

It sounded to Red like she was trying to convince herself. “Of course you'll be okay, Lizzie. There's nothing to worry about.” She took another deep breath but he noticed that she kept one hand pressed against her chest, as if trying to force herself to calm down. He turned on a small lamp, and moved over to the couch. Lizzie looked at him with a panicked expression that made his heart twist, and without thinking he took her hand in his.

 

Both their eyes moved to their clasped hands. Red's thumb gently rubbed the soft areas between her fingers. Her breathing was still strained. “Would you like a glass of water?” She shook her head, eyes stil focused on his hand. He observed her shallow breath with concern, biting the inside of his cheek as he considered what else to suggest. “Walking. Walking is a good idea, Lizzie. Let's get up and walk together.” He started to stand up and she protested.

 

“Your leg-- no, it's fine.” But her face said otherwise.

 

He stood. “Dembe left me a walking stick- there Lizzie,” gesturing beside the couch. She got up and handed it to him. “There. I'm fine- let's get some air.”

 

She followed him, desperate for a distraction from what she was feeling. He kept glancing back at her every so often. They reached the door, and he sat momentarily to put on his shoes. Lizzie grabbed hers without really thinking about it, and they went outside.

 

The air was sharp, and Lizzie inhaled deeply with relief, the cold somehow allowing her lungs to expand without the feeling of strain she'd been fighting.

 

Red watched her closely. She gulped down several more deep breaths, standing there with her eyes closed. In a moment, she opened them. “Better. I'm starting to feel better. Thank you Red.” She shook her head, trying to shake off the last of the anxiety. “God, I never know when that's going to happen. It's the worst. I'm sorry for waking you!”

 

He stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder in a way that she found extremely comforting, and also a bit distracting. Feeling slightly light-headed, she had a fleeting moment of wondering if he was going to kiss her – and _where did_ that _come from? –_ but instead he just gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting his arm return to his side.

 

“No need to apologize. I find the cold night air bracing, myself. I'm just glad you found some relief.”

 

She nodded. “I'm okay.”

 

“Shall we stay outside a bit longer? I've been feeling a bit stir crazy inside. Dembe tries his best to keep me occupied but I must say, Lizzie, you've proven to have a much more engaging taste in movies. Even still, I'm enjoying the fresh air.”

 

“Yes, let's.” Lizzie moved so that she was standing immediately beside Red, their arms touching. Neither of them said anything else, not needing to fill the silence with anything other than their thoughts. Slowly, almost shyly, Lizzie let her fingers find his, interlacing them and enjoying the warmth she felt there. He stiffened almost imperceptibly (but she was intensely aware of his every movement), then relaxed.

 

Lizzie closed her eyes again. This. This was necessary. This was what she'd been missing. This was _important_.

  
Red closed his eyes. This was _home._

 


	8. It's a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's about time Lizzie asked Red to dinner.

Something had changed. Lizzie both knew this, and was confused by it. Working with Reddington had become an integral part of her life, but spending time with him outside of work – that was new. And – she was _enjoying_ it. Raymond Reddington was certainly many-layered, and she saw that attempting to define him using only one characteristic -- _criminal_ , for instance -- was unfair. She had assumed his motives for trying to control her life were selfish, or at least serving his misguided belief that he knew better than anyone else. He may have believed that, but Lizzie felt now that his motives were deeper than that. She almost wondered if he might – but she didn't quite let herself jump to that conclusion. Not yet, at least.

 

“Would you like to drop by for some dinner tonight, Red?” They were in the Post Office, flipping through some files on the latest case.

 

Reddington glanced over at her, in surprise and she shrugged. “I wasn't planning on cooking, but I discovered a great new Mexican place I thought we could try. They deliver to my apartment.”

 

This was a first; Lizzie hadn't extended a dinner invitation to him before. He was considering how to respond without seeming desperate (but oh, how he was), when she continued with just enough nonchalance to make him suspect her of feeling similarly, “The tacos are excellent.”

 

Reddington continued to regard Lizzie without speaking, and he thought he saw her eyes dart over from the file folder to his face once, but it was so quick he couldn't be sure he hadn't imagined it. “If you have other plans, of course...” she stared fiercely at the file on her desk and he noticed it was upside-down. It was hardly fair of him to make her wait like this, he scolded himself, suddenly realizing she must have misinterpreted his measured silence as disinterest.

 

“No no, I don't have any other plans Lizzie.” He further realized it now appeared that she was a last resort, and added, “I'd be absolutely delighted.” The look on her face made his chest expand.

 

“Great! I mean, good.” she hesitated. _Great or good? Which was it?_ The truth felt nearer than ever. “You can drop by around six.”

 

“It's a date,” Reddington confirmed, and with a graceful scoop of his hat off the desk, he headed towards the door. Lizzie caught the tail end of a comment which sounded like “... Dembe's waiting” and she watched him leave before letting out a sigh she hadn't been aware she'd been holding in.

 

-

 

 _Bzz._ She glanced at her phone: there was 1 new text from Reddington.

 

_-Can I bring anything to dinner? Wine? Beer? A 1974 single malt?_

 

She smiled. Texted back quickly.

 

_-Nope_

 

_-Wine it is, then_

 

-

 

Red and the food arrived at the same time. Lizzie had just called ahead and ordered pretty much one of everything, figuring there was always room for leftovers in the (near empty) fridge.

She was juggling the bags of food from the delivery driver when Red leaned in and took them, with a quick “I'll bring these inside,” as though he owned the place.

 

“Thank you -” she called after him, uselessly as he was already inside. She went in, and found him unpacking the food as well as a bottle of wine from his own bag.

 

“Dembe sent this,” he lied, gesturing at the bottle. Lizzie grinned. “Thanks Dembe.”

 

She glanced at Reddington in surprise, noticing that he'd dressed – for him- incredibly casually in jeans and a sweater. “To what do I owe the honour of your jeans, Red?” she teased.

 

He hesitated, remembering _If you wear a shirt and tie I'll murder you, I swear._ It seemed ages ago. They had been on an undercover case. Would she remember? Judging from the look in her eye, she did. “I couldn't risk having you join the ranks of FBI's Most Wanted,” he returned lightly.

 

She laughed, which delighted him. “I appreciate it. You should wear this more often, I like it.”

 

Red filed this away for the future. Lizzie was already busying herself setting the various containers out and grabbing napkins. “We could sit outside?” she suggested, but it sounded like a question. He nodded, and followed her out on the balcony.

 


	9. Essential

“Mmm, these fish tacos.” Lizzie balanced a plate full of tacos on one arm as she reached across to the cilantro-lime sauce. Reddington smiled. “What?” she glanced over, laughing. “You have to use up the sauce, it won't keep. Not that I'm an expert or anything, I mean I've only tried this place once before. Okay twice.” She held out the sauce, giving Red a chance to use some if he wanted. He shook his head, still smiling, and she drizzled a bit more on her tacos.

 

“You sure?” she shrugged when he declined. They sat quietly for a while, enjoying the food and each others' company.

 

“You know,” Lizzie said, “Some people consider it awkward to sit too long in silence with another person.” She was speaking in the general direction of the evening sky, not looking directly at Red. “I sort of enjoy it though. If it's like this – it's... somehow more intimate than talking.” Reddington regarded her closely and thought he saw a faint blush. He didn't say anything, sensing she would continue in her own time.

 

“I'm not saying I don't enjoy your story-telling, or anything , just- sometimes it's nice just to sit.” She turned towards him then, wanting to see his reaction.

 

Red paused, considering his words carefully, tongue rolling in his cheek as he thought. Then finally, “I couldn't agree more, Lizzie.”

 

It was the perfect response. He did always seem to know just what to say.

 

They'd finished eating and were enjoying the wine. “I'm so glad you joined me for dinner.” She tried to infuse her words with the depth of what she was feeling. “It's been nice having you back in my life.” Nice didn't come near to what it was, but it was a start.

 

He appeared to have some trouble swallowing, then tilted his head toward her in acknowledgement but said nothing.

 

“'It's been nice having you back in my life as well, Lizzie,'” she prompted with a small grin.

 

Red met her eyes. She tried to read his expression but feared she was projecting what she wanted to see, rather than what was meant. It looked like -- but she couldn't quite be sure, and why wouldn't he _say_ something? Her grin faltered slightly and she hoped she wasn't mistaken.

 

“Lizzie.” His voice was deep. _Lizzie._ That was all. Just her name. But the way he said it –

 

“Yes?” her voice was a near whisper.

 

He shook his head slightly, taking a sip of wine and exhaling slowly. “Having you back in my life is... like seeing sunlight after being trapped underground for months. It's essential. _You're_... essential, Lizzie.”

 

“Why?” barely able to breathe, she asked him this question. _Why_ was she essential?

 

And could he explain? She was looking at him with all traces of the playful grin gone now, just wide-open eyes and questions. The moment felt weighted; he felt like there was something heavy pressing into his chest and he wasn't sure how to make it stop.

 

Why was she essential? Why was _air_ essential, why was a _heartbeat_ essential? Could any of it be explained?

 

And then Lizzie reached over and gently placed a hand on his knee. The world tilted on its axis for a moment, and Red closed his eyes. When he opened them, her hand was still there. A different kind of weight: a comfort.

 

“Ah. Well, Lizzie. You've always been essential, to me.” The heaviness in his chest was lifting now, and being replaced by expansiveness. This was how. This.

 

He placed his own hand atop hers, then, and was about to continue trying to make her understand what he meant, what he wished he could say – but he was interrupted when Lizzie leaned forward meeting his lips with hers.

 

Her lips. He felt his eyes close of their own volition, and his own mouth began responding to hers. He. Was. Kissing. Elizabeth. It lasted longer than he dared hope, and yet still wasn't long enough. She drew back shyly, causing him to fear he'd somehow misinterpreted her intention, but as soon as he met her eyes he was relieved to see mirrored back to him there his own feelings.

 

“I think,” Lizzie said, “you've always been essential to me, too.”

 

Red drew her closer, kissed her again slowly, savouring every sensation. Her hands came up to rest gently on the back of his head, and he was certain he had to be dreaming.

 

“Elizabeth. I've been wanting to kiss you since you stabbed me in the neck with your pen, but I didn't think it fit to reward the attempt at my life.”

 

“Raymond,” she returned, “you can make up for lost time now. All my pens are inside.” And she leaned in to kiss him again.

 


End file.
